The Magician's Hero
by theamericanandhisbrit
Summary: A continuation of doujin "The Hero and the Magician". Can be read on it's own! Arthur Kirkland's name is cursed- anyone who says it will suffer a terrible fate... but maybe a second chance is all he ever needed. Harry Potter universe. USUK.
1. Part I

**A/N: Hello! This is the continuation of a USUK Doujinshi I was watching on YouTube called "The Hero and the Magician". **

**Quick synopsis: Arthur Kirkland, second year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is cursed. Whenever somebody says his name, something terrible will happen to them, and because of this, he is shunned, alone, and very, very afraid. Alfred F. Jones, a first year, quickly gains interest in him after he helps him find his way back to the common room at night after being lost. He and Arthur bond, and Arthur finally tells him his name, and the curse doesn't seem to effect Alfred at all. One day, the two go off to search for a unicorn and Alfred is badly wounded. Arthur, believing himself and his curse responsible, uses a Time Turner to change the past so he and Alfred never met, and they never speak again...**

**Until now, after I was done crying from the sadness that was this fan comic! I hope you like, and I recommend going and looking up the Doujin.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own the initial plot line for the doujinshi: "The Hero and the Magician"**

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><p><span>The Magician's Hero<span>

"Hey, you!"

If the loud voice hadn't been directly in my ear, I wouldn't have bothered looking up. Usually when persons address one another they do so by name, and whenever someone around here is addressed by "Hey, you" it's not me anyways. Yet it's hard to misplace someone asking for your attention when their extremely loud and obnoxiously American voice is squawking into your eardrums so unexpectedly that you fall off your stool.

Which I did with great dignity, I assure you.

I could hear several people around me giggle as I landed on the floor, spilling my pumpkin juice in the process. Irritated, I looked up into sky blue eyes.

Alfred F. Jones.

I have a few improper words I would like to use about him, but being a gentleman, I shall refrain. But allow me to tell you a few things about Alfred F. Jones: he was a transfer student from America, and no amount of living here in the British Empire could change his stupid accent. Being charming and witty and handsome (I _can_tell these things, you know.), he gained popularity from the moment his black "converse" shoes stepped foot on the stone floor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If that wasn't enough, he was also Captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team and held a mysterious reputation for having absolutely nothing hateful to pin down and gossip about him other than his "bloody hotness" as put by a female classmate.

All these facts were running around in my head when he stuck his hand in my face and grinned charmingly, showing perfect teeth. "Sorry dude, I didn't mean to scare you."

I reluctantly took his hand- the floor was slippery and I might have lost my balance otherwise. This promoted an immediate shocked silence amongst the students; after all, people like me didn't exactly get on 'hand-holding' basis with star students.

It was certainly not hand-holding, however.

The moment I was back on my feet, I retracted my hand and whipped out my wand, cleaning up the spilt juice. "I wasn't scared... you simply startled me."

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Alfred had been watching me clear up the mess that he had caused me to make. "Hey, what spell is that? I could defiantly use it- I'm a right klutz sometimes."

"Don't you take Charms class?" I scoffed, shoving my wand back into my pocket, rather pleased at my use of a nonverbal incantation. "Or do you not just pay attention in it?"

"I take it," Alfred said defensively, leaning casually against the table and attracting a few glares from my fellow Slytherin's: Alfred's skills at quidditch were well looked upon as a school, but as a rival House, he was a bit of an enemy against our senior player Antonio Carriedo. "I'm a fifth year, remember? You're sixth, right?"

"I learnt this spell in _third_year," I told him, placing my quill in my bag and wrapping a piece of toast in a napkin for later- Professor Florence didn't mind if I ate in Muggle Studies. "Now, if you wanted something, get on with it; I'm going to be late for class."

"Oh, right!" Alfred snapped his fingers and his smile (did I call it charming earlier? Yes, well, I take it back- it's more of a dumb grin.) appeared once again on his face. "Okay, so I got in an argument with one of my friends and he stole my red ink that I _really_need for Transfiguration, so I was wondering if I could borrow some?"

I stared at him, my bag half-way over my shoulder. "... You're asking _me_. For ink. Why on earth would I give you any? I don't even know you."

"Everyone knows me," Alfred said cheekily. "I'm the hero!"

"Yes, yes, Alfred Jones, the quidditch super-star..." I muttered, swinging my bag completely over my shoulder and turning to leave. "Get gone, boy."

"It's Alfred _F_. Jones," Alfred called after me, attracting a lot of stares. "And what's your name?"

I flushed and quickened my pace, leaving the Great Hall and for once not minding when the wave of students parted to let me through with whispers of "It's him" and "Don't look in his eyes". Something felt stuck in my throat, and I swallowed. I didn't get asked a lot of questions, but the time I might have wanted to turn around and answer his, I couldn't.

~oO0Oo~

I wish I could say the week passed by as its usual monotone of boring and unsocial events.

For all six years that I'd been at Hogwarts, my life hadn't consisted of much more then eating, sleeping, and attending classes. I didn't have any friends, and even the people I could loosely call acquaintances (for better or worse) would surely rather die than have me lurking about in their lives. It was better than primary school, because not being made fun of and called names was a plus, but also never having anyone to talk to because they were afraid of you... well, that could be lonely.

I suppose I sound like an old man.

Having exceptional grades, whether it's because I'm intelligent (I like to think I am) or because I have so much free time for lack of social time, puts me figuratively and literally in a corner by myself in the classroom. I don't need help in classes, and the professors are usually far too busy trying to help the mindless morons anyway. I'd help them too, but the last thing I need is to not only be feared, but to have people think I'm a snobbish brat. But really, what else am I supposed to do with my free time other than learn?

Apparently Alfred F. Jones had the answer to that.

Over the next five days, I went from "Hey, you" to "Dude" to "Caterpillar Brows", and every time I heard that voice, I bolted for the nearest spare classroom. You may think it rude, for me to complain about how ignored I am in my head and then run away from someone trying to get to know me, but what was I supposed to think? I had Alfred nearly corner me on multiple occasions, demanding my name and asking hoards of questions and inquiries.

"What's your last name, if you won't tell me yours first?"

"What class do you have next?"

"Where are you from?"

"Who's your favorite teacher?"

"Is it true you spilled Hair-Growth potion on your forehead and that's why your eyebrows are so bushy?"

God, did that last question set my teeth on edge.

"No, it's not true!" I spat out that Friday on my way to Potions. "I have perfectly normal eyebrows, thank you very much! Now leave me alone!"

"C'mon, dude!" Alfred begged, trailing after me on my way to the dungeons. "Just tell me your name!"

"No," I said venomously. "_Don't you have class to get to_?"

He ignored my comment. "I've tried asking people but either no one knows, or the ones that look like they do won't tell me! What's up with that?"

"Maybe they don't feel like nosing into other people's business," I grumbled, taking the steps down two at a time. "Unlike some people."

"But no one knows nothing about you, man!" Alfred protested, keeping up with me easily.

"No one knows _anything_about me," I instinctively corrected him, and then cursed myself for talking. "Use your grammar, Jones!"

I reached the wooden door, and my hand was reaching for the handle when Alfred's fist shot out and kept me from opening it. I glared at him and was startled to see an equally heated gaze trained on me. How dare he be upset with me? I did nothing wrong- I just wanted to be left alone.

"Haven't you ever_ tried _to make friends?" He accused, blue eyes narrowed. "Or noticed when someone clearly wants to make friends with you? Usually they start by saying their name."

"I don't have any friends," I immediately said. "Let me in."

"That's not an answer to my question, dude."

"I'm not answering your questions!" I snapped, stepping up so I was face to face with him. He was a good deal taller than me, enough so the top of my hair would barely tickle his chin if I cared to stand directly below him. "Don't you get that yet? I don't have friends because I have a good reason to, and my life is none of yours or any ones, business! I bet this is just some joke between you and your mates, right? To see if you can find out just what exactly is wrong with me? Well, too bad!"

I was breathing heavily, and Alfred looked shocked, and then to my great surprise, a little hurt. "I'll admit that when I asked for ink, it was on a dare with a friend of mine... but not how you think!" he added as my cheeks flared red in anger. "He was going on about how weird you were, and I didn't think you were so bad, right? So he said that if I was so tough, I should go and talk to you. So I did, and now... I just want to know your name. It would be so not cool if I was just using you, dude! I swear I'm not, I just want to be your friend."

My friend?

How childish was that? 'I just want to be your friend'. It sounded like a line from a bad American film, and I would only be half-surprised if he hadn't picked it up from one... and yet...

No one, not ever, had sought me out as a friend.

Alfred must have seen my expression change, and he offered a small smile and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, removing his hand from the door. "Sorry, man. I just thought you were kinda cool is all, and I'd like to get to know you better, if you'd let me."

At what cost? How long would it take before I became attached? Before he realized I wasn't fun, or 'cool', or interesting beyond my predicament? Then I'd have no one, and it'd be different then it was now. I'd always been alone; I hadn't ever had a friend to care about me. Or a friend to lose. Was it worth it? Was he just pulling my leg?

"Look..." Alfred shuffled his feet and looked down. "I'm sorry for being so annoying. I'll leave you alone now, but I've got quidditch practice this evening, and maybe if you wanna come down and let me know if you'll accept my request...? It's over at seven."

He gave me a last smile and left me standing at the door to the Potions classroom with my mouth hanging open and my head fighting my heart.

~oO0Oo~

I don't know why I went. It's probably because I'm a fool. But there I was, feeling awkward as the bottom of my favorite, worn out pair of trainers became stained green by the wet grass of the quidditch pitch. I probably could have gone and waited in the stands, but hiding by the locker room seemed to be a better option- less people saw me, easy exit, and... Maybe I was worried Alfred had forgotten and was going to walk out without knowing I was there.

The evening was chilly and carried a hint of pumpkin and spice from the ground-keeper's cabin garden, reminding me that the holidays were going to start soon, and that the weather was going to begin to get much colder. From my little corner of the field I watched the seven members of the Gryffindor quidditch team fly around the pitch, their laughter and talking sounding small and tinny from where I was situated on the ground. I could instantly tell which player was Alfred, as he was the fastest, most daring player out there, and seemed to be commanding the other players. He was also graceful in the air, something I never quite associated with the American before.

I was only standing for about five minutes when I heard a whistle and watched as the team began to descend, playfully shoving each other around on their broomsticks. I huddled backwards, trying to blend my green and gray plaid sweater vest with the scarlet and gold banner behind me, to no avail. The team landed and I looked away as they all stared, smiles fading and whispering amongst themselves suspiciously.

"Hey!"

Alfred was walking up to me, positively beaming. His golden hair was windswept and his glasses were slightly crooked, but he looked rather endearing in his too-big sweater and baggy jeans, broomstick clasped tightly in one hand. I almost smiled back, but was conscious of the rest of the team goggling at the two of us.

"You came!" He exclaimed, prancing to my side. His cheeks and nose were slightly red from the cold, blue eyes brightly lit. "Dude, I'm so glad!"

"Yes... well..." I cleared my throat and looked down at my trainers. "I decided maybe there was some truth to your words."

"Great!" His smile grew bigger and he turned to his team mates, who were looking like they he had sprouted antlers. "Fantastic practice, guys. Get some rest- our first game's only two weeks away, and we're not quite ready yet... but we're getting there!"

They looked at one another before seeming to shrug and walk for the locker room, persona changing completely as they left, laughing again.

"Wanna take a walk?" Alfred suggested, gesturing to the expanse of the field. "Or a fly?"

"Oh, no," I shook my head quickly and felt my stomach clench as I looked at the broom. "No flying, please... I-I don't care for heights."

"Alright, we can walk then!" Alfred said cheerfully, and we began our trudge along the rim of the pitch. "What made you change your mind?"

I shrugged and kept my eyes on the ground in front of my feet. What was I supposed to say? That I was experimenting with the idea of having a connection with a human being for the first time? That I was absolutely terrified? That I didn't want to be all by myself anymore? "I don't know... you're a very convincing smooth-talker, Jones."

"Ha, I've heard that before!" Alfred laughed, a little bounce in his step. "From my mom."

"You smooth talk your mum?" I snorted. "Why aren't I surprised?"

"Well, I really wanted this broom..." Alfred held out the sleek wooden broomstick for me to see. "I had to butter her up and ended up getting it for a birthday present. And call me Alfred."

He looked at me expectantly, and I remembered that he wanted my name. "Oh... okay, Alfred... um, you can call me Kirkland."

"That's a funny name..." Alfred frowned and crossed his arms. "It's your last name, isn't it?"

"Yes," I said stiffly. "Kirkland."

"And your first?" Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Come on..."

"I... I can't tell you," I whispered, looking at my hands that had begun wringing themselves into knots. "I already risked a lot telling you my last name."

"Aw, jeez..." Alfred rolled his eyes and startled me by putting an arm around my shoulder. "Just tell me, I won't even tell anyone else if you don't want!"

"That's not the problem," I muttered, straining away- it was no use, the boy's arms were like vines. "... I can't tell you..."

"I thought we were gonna be friends!"

"I want to be!" I suddenly cried out, pushing him away, my emotions taking over. "Alfred, I want to, I swear I do! I wish I could tell you my name, I wish I could! But I don't want you getting hurt!"

Alfred looked at me, confused. "What do you-"

"Are you blind or something?" I choked out, willing myself not to break. "Haven't you seen how everyone avoids me? I mean, it's not just because I'm... I'm grouchy or something! They all know the rumors, and it's true, dammit!"

I wiped at my eyes, furious at myself for displaying such vulgar emotions. Alfred was quiet.

And then: "You mean the curse everyone talks about?"

So he _had _heard the rumors after all.

"Yes, yes," I turned away. "That."

"So if you tell me your name and I say it, I'll be cursed? Why?"

"I don't know," I said bitterly. "I've been like this forever."

"What'll happen?" Alfred asked curiously. "I mean, to me, if I say your name?"

"You'll get hurt," I heard myself say as my mind went off on its own.

_"Mum!"_

_Blood everywhere. Can't see. Everything... so thick... sticky..._

_"Mum, please!"_

_Hair. Blonde hair. Eyes like cloudy green glass. _

_Tears. Fear. Aching, terrible, sadness..._

_"Please, wake up, Mum, wake up... please!"_

"I don't care."

I blinked and looked back at Alfred, gaping. "What do you mean you don't care?"

Alfred grinned and put a hand on my shoulder. "Dude, _I don't care._I'm not gonna let some dumb old curse keep you completely miserable all the time! You deserve for at least someone to be able to call you by your real name- who better than a hero?"

"Don't be stupid," I snapped, brushing his hand away. "You... you don't even know what you're saying. People have gotten hurt because of me, Alfred. It's my fault and I can't let it happen again."

"It's not your fault!" Alfred protested, stepping closer. There was a logo on his red sweater- a yellow "M". "You didn't ask to be cursed."

"But I told them my name," I folded my arms across my chest. "And they got hurt... so it is my fault. I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have told them. It was selfish."

"Dude," Alfred came a bit closer, and I could see navy specks in his perfectly cerulean eyes. "It's not selfish to want someone to care about you."

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

"I mean, really!" Alfred laughed loudly. "Man, I can't imagine not having anyone to dump my problems on! Dude, there's nothing wrong with needing someone to talk to, especially when you've got a problem like yours. I mean, seriously, I would probably die in your situation! I love talking to people, you know? So if I had to keep myself a secret, I probably would turn super mean and whatever, and you're pretty strong if you can do all that and still stay cool. Well, you are kinda grumpy, but that's okay, anyone would be! And-"

"Arthur."

It escaped before I could catch it.

"Huh?" Alfred stared at me.

"That's my name," I whispered, fiddling with my thumbs. "Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."

I looked down at my feet. My comfortable, grass-stained shoes looked a little out of place when Alfred's shiny black converses were within eyesight as well. He wasn't saying anything... why had I done that? I was an idiot, really. Maybe a memory modification spell would do the trick... if explained to the Headmaster that someone could get hurt, the spell wouldn't be so bad, I could probably even do it myself in secret and-

"It's nice to meet you... Arthur."

I think I expected a crash of thunder and maybe a lightning bolt to shoot from the sky and hit him in the head.

It didn't.

And a pair of big, warm arms wrapped around me and pulled me into a warm, fried-food smelling chest. I froze, shocked, but Alfred kept hugging me. I could feel his breath in my hair and stared into the shadow of his sweater for a long moment before closing my eyes and bringing my arms up to gently squeeze him back. I had never been hugged by anyone other than my mum. I wasn't even sure if I liked it or not, but I appreciated the contact after not having much over the last few years.

"See?" Alfred pulled back and held me at arm's length, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. "Not so bad, right?"

"Just... don't say it too much..." I muttered, frowning. "I don't know how much it actually takes until something happens..."

"Then I'll give you a nickname!" Alfred proclaimed. "I'll think of a really good one, too. That way I can say your name, but not! Like, cheating the curse or somethin'!"

"I don't know..." I bit my lip. "I don't care for nicknames..."

"I'll pick out a great one, Arthur!" He noticed me wince and quickly added, "Um... I mean... Artie?"

"Oh, God no!" I exclaimed, mortified. "Not Artie! That's so... American!"

"Yeah, but it's _my_nickname to you, right? And I'm All-American!" Alfred beamed.

"Oh, bullocks..." I shook my head, exasperated. "Don't call me Artie."

"Then..." He squinted at me and began backing up as I began walking forward, towards the exit. He held his hands in an "L" and framed my face like a picture. "Art?"

"No," I raised an eyebrow. "Still too American."

"Um... how 'bout Arth?"

"No..."

"Arby?"

"Where did you get that from?"

"A-Man?"

"You can't be serious."

"Art-Dog Yo."

"... I'm not going to answer that."

"Arthurama!"

"Git."

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><p><strong>AN: **

**And such was the start of a beautiful friendship/something more/YAOI... *tears well up***

**I hope you liked :P **

**And if I get positive response... I may make this a two-shot... *hint*hint***

**I LOVE YOU ENGLAND AND AMERICA! :DDDDD**

**Reviews are love, people! And I love you~!**


	2. Part II

The Magician's Hero: Part II

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><p><span>:.:.:.:.:.:Week Three:.:.:.:.:.:<span>

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><p>"Yo! Iggy!"<p>

I lowered my head and lifted my book in front of my face. Maybe if I just ignored him, he'd go away…

"Iggy!"

Please. Don't see me. Stop saying that horrid nickname.

"Iggy! Iggster!"

… Where did the boy come up with these names anyway?

"Iggles~!"

"_Shut up_!" I slammed my copy of _Hogwarts: A History _down onto the round wooden table and hissed as loud as I could through my gritted teeth. "We're in the _library_!"

Alfred F. Jones simply laughed loudly and waved, bounding over to my little table in the corner of the library, his dark blonde hair swinging wildly in his face. "Dude, you're impossible to find! Seriously, why don't cell phones work here? Everything would be easier with texting!"

"Shh!" I put a finger to my lips and pointed furiously at the second chair across the table from myself. "If you're going to talk, sit down and _be quiet_!"

Alfred grinned and sat, clearing away a small spot on the table amidst my numerous papers and books to rest his elbows on and prop his head in his hands. "Whatcha doing?"

"Homework," I snapped, picking up my quill. "Ever heard of it?"

"Calm down, man," Alfred swung his legs under the table and lightly kicked my shin. "Sorry for bein' loud and whatever."

Fuming, I wrote my last name on the top corner of the parchment. "I wish you wouldn't address me in such a way in public."

Alfred peered at me over the rim of his glass, amused blue eyes blinking innocently. "But Iggy, it's your nickname…"

"Fine, 'Iggy', if you must," I glared at him. "But in no way, shape, or form, may you call me 'Iggles'!"

"I was just trying to get your attention," The American scratched his nose. "I won't do it again… maybe."

"Maybe? You mean you won't!"

"No, I mean I maybe won't."

"No, you won't!"

"I will."

"You will not!"

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't."

"This is ridicu-"

"_Boys_!" The librarian appeared from behind a bookcase, her beady eyes narrowed. "If you can't properly respect the people around you, you _will_ leave the premises."

"Of course, ma'am," I said, standing up and beginning to pack my things into my bag. "I was just going."

"I'm going too!" Alfred smiled charmingly at her, picking up a few of my books as well. "We'll leave in peace."

The librarian sniffed and walked away, leering over her shoulder and looking much like a vulture.

I snatched my books away from Alfred and shoved them in my bag. "You can't follow me."

"Sure I can!" Alfred cheerfully picked up some more of my papers and helped me put them away. "There's no law against it."

"Not if I go back to my common room," I said triumphantly, earning a disappointed look from Alfred and a slight guilty feeling on my part. "… ugh. Unless… there was something you wanted…"

"Well," Alfred immediately went back to his chipper self and we walked out of the library together, back into the stony corridors. "Tonight's the Halloween feast, right? So, I was thinking that-"

"I'm not going to the feast."

I didn't realize that Alfred had stopped in his tracks until I was suddenly walking by myself and had to turn around to see him standing there, looking dumbfounded.

"W-What?" He gaped, like the very idea was atrocious. "No Halloween feast? Dude, who doesn't go to the Halloween feast?"

"I don't," I shrugged and kept walking, Alfred hurrying to catch up and match my brisk pace. "Too many people… too much noise… too many hyped up, sugar-fed first-years…"

"Yeah… but the food!" The Gryffindor was practically drooling at the thought. "And the candy… and the food!"

I shot a look at Alfred. "I seem to recall a certain incident last term where _someone_ had to be restrained in the hospital wing because he ate one too many spiked pumpkin pasties…"

"That was not my fault!" Alfred quickly said, waving his arm around wildly for emphasis and nearly hitting my head. "I didn't know they were spiked! Honest!"

"Well, the point is that I just don't want to go," I said firmly, stopping as we reached a junction in the hallway where the stairs that led down to the Slytherin common room were located. "Can you respect that?"

Alfred was quiet for a second, and then a sort of knowing look came on his face.

"What?" I asked suspiciously. "What's the look for?"

"Nothing," He brushed off my question and smiled. "I'm sorry you won't come. I'll see you later!"

And before I could say anything, he took off.

~oO0Oo~

… I had to admit it.

The food did smell good.

I sighed and turned my head away from the Great Hall, where the steady rumble of voices and laughter could be heard, and a rosy, orange glow could be seen from the huge, arching windows. I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered in the chilly breeze- it was cold tonight, but especially up on one of the ramparts of Hogwarts where the wind liked to the reach, it was more frigid then anything.

And being me, I had forgotten to bring a cloak or even a decent sweater.

I looked up. The sky was beautiful tonight, a big navy blanket with a few wisps of clouds among the many stars which were illuminated silver by the full moon. I rested my head on my arms and drew my knees up to my chest, the shingles of the roof scraping slightly under my shoes. Over my head I heard a flapping of wings and saw a few bats flying out of the tower I was leaning my back against. The gates across the windows rattled emptily as another gust of wind blew over the top of the huge castle, and I really couldn't help the sudden, lonely ache that filled my chest.

I was such a bloody coward.

Here I was, moping on the blooming _roof_ of the school, while the rest of the students were having a good time with their friends and their owls and their food and their professors and their magic… and their food… my stomach rumbled and I told it to shut up.

I couldn't help it.

I hated the feasts, and not solely for the reasons I told Alfred. I didn't like noisy crowds, and Lord knows how I despise small children with sugar running through their veins, but what I really hated was how much more I was reminded of being alone. Which was foolish. It was just… like a big party that I had been invited to out of pity. No one looked at me or talked to me, and while I didn't 'care' on a normal day, it just felt even worse when everyone else was so damn happy.

The image of small and scrawny eleven year old me, sitting on the corner of the Slytherin table bench, kicking my short legs and nibbling on some candy corn, just waiting and praying for the night to be over popped into my head.

I buried my face into my arms and clenched my fingers in my hair.

So henceforth, I had resigned myself to this particular spot on the roof, where I could be miserable by myself during Halloween, Christmas, Valentines, and end-of-term feast's.

Which was fine, when I remembered to bring some food and my sweater…

"Stupid," I muttered as another cold draft blew the scent of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and… and, oh, that was pumpkin pie… "Really, Arthur, really?"

SMASH.

I jumped about a foot in the air and whipped out my wand, pointing it in the direction of the sudden noise. "Who's there?"

Silence.

I narrowed my eyes. "_Lumos._"

The tip of my wand lit up the turret with a bright yellow light and I shone it over the metal gates over the windows.

"Jesus!" Came an indignant shout. "Stupid- ow! - bats!"

My jaw dropped as none other then Alfred F. Jones opened the gate of the window and pulled himself through, carrying a small bundle and his own illuminated wand.

"_Alfred_?"

"Iggy!" Alfred waved and lack of a second hand to support him caused him to fall through, landing on his face. "Okay, _ow_…"

"What the bloody hell are you doing up here?" I demanded as he got to his feet, brushing himself off. "You could have killed yourself!"

"But I didn't!" Alfred said proudly, standing up straight and wobbling down the slope towards me. "Help me, would ya?"

I rolled my eyes but really didn't want him to die, so I took his hand and guided him to the flat surface under the tower itself. "Careful! How did you even find me?"

"Well…" Alfred's eyes glowed in the combined light of our wands and he sat down, patting the spot next to him. "I'll show you."

I reluctantly sat, and Alfred held out a thick, silky material to me. "What is it?"

"Watch," Alfred stuck his hand under the material and my eyes popped as I saw that it had completely disappeared. "Cool, right?"

"Alfred!" I gasped and took the object into my hands, holding my wand up to it and examining it closely. "This is an Invisibility Cloak! Where ever did you get it?"

"It's been passed down in my family," Alfred beamed at my reaction. "My Dad gave it to me- it's dead useful for sneaking around. So I waited for you outside your common room and when you came out, I followed you here, and once I knew where you were, I went and got us this!"

He reached for the small package and put it in between us, untying the thin cloth and opened a steaming bundle of fried chicken. My mouth watered and I immediately reached for a piece, bringing the still hot food to my mouth and tearing into the meat, nearly moaning with satisfaction.

Oh… it was so good…

Alfred laughed and took a piece for himself, setting his lit wand beside him. For a while, the two of us sat and ate, the smell of the oily food settling in a thick cloud around us. After a while, I stopped and wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my shirt, coughing slightly. "So… uh, why did you follow me?"

"I didn't want you to be all alone at Halloween," Alfred said simply, turning his azure eyes on me. "And I understood why you didn't want to come to the feast, so I brought it to you!"

I was quiet and stared at my greasy hands.

"You know," Alfred looked up at the stars. "I have a lot of friends, and I see them all the time. Most of 'em are in Gryffindor and they just… sorta go with whatever I say. Sometimes I feel like they just don't _really_ get me… but you're different, Arthur. I like hangin' out with you, and I guess I could either stuff myself with food with a bunch of people who I see every day, all the time, or I could come and sit with you, who I like but don't get to see as much as I want to, and just be myself. _And_ I still get to eat the great food."

He turned to smile at me, and I couldn't help but smile back, before looking down at my lap and fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "… No one's ever done anything this nice for me before, Alfred. Thank you."

A warm, sort of tingling feeling was growing in my chest.

I liked it.

"Dude, anytime!" Alfred grinned and elbowed me teasingly before straightening up a bit and reaching into his pocket. "Oh, I brought dessert!"

He struggled to pull out two extremely squashed portions of pumpkin pie and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Oops. Um, sorry…"

I grinned and took a piece. "Cheers, Alfred."

Alfred held up his own slice. "Happy Halloween, Arthur!"

* * *

><p><span>:.:.:.:.:.:Week Five:.:.:.:.:.:<span>

* * *

><p>"<em>Go, Go, Gryffindor<em>!"

"_Slytherin! Slytherin_!"

"_Go, Go, Gryffindor_!"

"_Slytherin! Slytherin!_"

"Would you SHUT UP?" I shouted at the second year next to me, who let out a small squeak of terror as I rounded on him. "Bloody HELL, don't shout in my EAR!"

Call me a spoil sport, but the little bugger was _loud._

I huffed and wrapped my green and silver scarf farther around my neck, craning my neck to see the Gryffindor quidditch players, the Chasers, flying against a perfect, cloudless blue sky, tossing the Quaffle in between them. In a unified "v" shape, they flew across the green pitch and, with an indignant shout from my fellow Slytherin's, scored through the middle hoop.

A great roar went up from the scarlet and gold end, and the Chaser who made the shot did a victorious flip through the air that made my stomach turn with her and high-fived a passing Beater. It made me nauseous just to watch the players fly, much less ever mount one of those… those flying contraptions of _doom_. I usually didn't attend the matches for this very reason.

… and the sole entity of why I was about to throw up my breakfast on HIS behalf decidedly flew by the Slytherin stands at that very moment in the form of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed blur, _while waving at me._

"Keep both hands on the bloody broom, you idiot!" I shrieked at him as my house threw insults at him as he went by. "Or you'll fall off!"

Alfred zoomed away, making a wide circle around the pitch and raising his hands in the air to the Gryffindor end, which cheered and screamed their approval as he egged them on, his grin practically visible from where I was.

Show off.

I rubbed my hands together in an attempt to warm them up, my breath puffing out in a cloud of frozen air as I did so. It was too cold for November... The Slytherin's suddenly cheered as one of our Beaters hit a Bludger directly at the Gryffindor keeper and nearly knocked him off his broom, letting a Chaser make a score. It was 40 to 60, Slytherin winning, and the game had only been going about a half hour. I watched as Alfred called for a timeout and the whistle blew, the teams flying to their respective corners and huddling up.

Moments later they were back to the game and there was a small screeching noise as the microphone was picked up and commentary started.

"And they're off again," said the familiar drawling voice of Lovino Vargas. "Beilschmidt takes the Quaffle- did you know he thinks he's Prussian? - and there he goes, racing down towards the Slytherin end… oops, there goes Héderváry, stealing it from under his nose."

I watched as the brunette Gryffindor darted under the albino adversary and punched the Quaffle right from under his armpit and caught it with her other hand, swinging back around to the Gryffindor side. I could hear Beilschmidt's cussing as he spun around in the air to catch up to her, spitting insults. She paid him no mind, kicking another Chaser away as he tried to sneak up behind her for the prized wooden ball, darting straight for the goals like an arrow.

The Slytherin keeper swayed from side to side, ready to catch the ball from entering any of the three hoops, when the Gryffindor Beater swung his bat and send a Bludger careening straight for him, sending him flying away to avoid getting a nasty hit to head and allowing Héderváry to make the shot, earning another 10 points. She high-fived Alfred as the blonde went by, beaming.

I let out a breath. Why was this game so violent? I really didn't understand…

"Oh, Carriedo seems to have spotted something," Lovino Vargas suddenly said. "Could it be the Snitch?"

All the Slytherin heads turned to see Antonio Carriedo diving for the ground, hand outstretched. A great roar went up from the silver and green end, cheers and shouts of encouragement directed towards the Seeker as he arched towards the green field at a rapid pace. All the Gryffindor players stopped what they were doing to watch in horror as he neared the ground, forgetting about the Slytherin players who continued to play, tossing the Quaffle back and forth between each other.

I craned my neck, sure to see Alfred desperately flying after Carriedo, only to watch in astonishment as the Gryffindor Seeker darted straight past him for the other end of the pitch, eyes narrowing in concentration. There was a unified gasp, followed by a confused muttering of the crowd.

Suddenly, Carriedo pulled out of the dive, the Slytherin's groaning in frustration to see that he had not caught the Snitch. In the confusion, the Slytherin team had scored twice, giving them a thirty point lead, and I realized that that had been exactly what Carriedo had been aiming for. The feint had let Slytherin take control of the game again.

But why hadn't Alfred gone after him…?

As if in answer, the Gryffindor section suddenly screamed as their captain rocketed upwards, hand outstretched. Even I could see that this wasn't faked, and by the Bludger sent in Alfred's direction, the Slytherin team could also tell. Carriedo shot after him, but his pretend nose-dive cost him precious seconds as Alfred shot straight into the sun, his hair turning golden in the light.

Gloved hands fumbled for a moment, and then the broom dipped wildly. There was a collective gasp, myself included as the blinding light of the sun blocked out the vision of what was happening, until Alfred suddenly bolted out of the yellow light, a bright grin on his face as he lifted up his hand, the Snitch firmly in his grasp.

"Jones has caught the Snitch," Lovino Vargas said, sounding bored. "Gryffindor wins."

Yet the "win" was left out of the sentence as yells of triumph from the scarlet and gold end drowned out the word and the winning team descended to the ground, Alfred already being clapped on the back by his teammates. The Slytherin team landed, Carriedo looking upset while Beilschmidt yelled in anger and threw his broom to the ground. Around me, the House groaned in defeat, grumbling.

I barely noticed- I was already running down the wooden stairs and onto the field, clapping wildly and probably looking like an idiot. I didn't care. Alfred had won, and I was going to… to…

I slowed down, the stupid grin on my face fading as I came closer to the crowd of people who had swarmed the field, lifting Alfred and his teammates onto their shoulders and crying out in victory. Alfred was beaming, laughing as he was carried up, giving fist-pumps and awkward, one-armed hugs to his other half-levitating team members. His face was red from the cold air, hair wind-swept and blown around rather crazily, blue eyes bright under his slightly fogged-up glasses. The Gryffindor's cheered and applauded and couldn't get enough of him.

And I was the only Slytherin there, standing awkwardly and watching as my supposed "rival" team celebrated.

I was a bloody fool.

~oO0Oo~

"You were at the game."

I didn't look up from my parchment. It wasn't a question, so I didn't have to answer. Besides, we weren't supposed to be talking anyway. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor walked by, and once he was out of hearing range, Alfred spoke again, in a whisper.

"I saw you leave. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't realize you needed congratulations from every person in the entire school," I dipped my quill into my ink bottle and continued writing. "You were busy with your teammates anyway."

"Not too busy for you to come over and say 'hi'," Alfred shot me a look from across the table. "Or even come and say hi after everyone was gone."

"It was a good game, okay Alfred?" I hissed, looking up and glaring at him. "I'm sorry, but I don't do very well in crowds, if you recall."

Alfred was mercifully quiet for bit. Then he reached across the table and took my hand. I nearly jumped out of my skin and tried to wrench it away, but then I met his eyes and stopped struggling. The other two people at our table weren't paying any attention anyway, so I looked up into those eyes the color of the afternoon sky.

"I'm sorry," Alfred apologized sincerely, squeezing my hand. "Really. That probably sounded pretty asshole-ish and self-centered. I just... well, you _do_ know that your opinion matters a lot to me, right? Prolly more then any of my team. So... yeah. I was just kinda disappointed when ya didn't show up."

I was quiet for a moment, then I reached over with my other hand and patted his that was on top of my other. "It really was a good game, Alfred. I didn't realize that... that I meant that much much to you. I mean, my opinion meant that much to you."

Alfred laughed and grinned at me. "Your opinion does mean a lot to me... but you do too. So thanks."

I flushed and looked away. "How did you know that the snitch wasn't with Antonio anyway?"

"Easy!" Alfred spread his arms wide, face eager. "So, the sun was right behind the guy, right? And for a minute, I thought he really did have the bugger, but then! I realized! _I would have seen it_! The glare from the sun woulda reflected off the snitch, but I didn't see nothing! So I went in the other direction, hoping to get my teammates to realize that I had called their bluff, right? And then I actually saw it, goin' straight up into the sky, and the rest is history!"

I listened with a small smile, then ducked my head down and glanced meaningfully at Alfred. "Alfred..."

"I mean, I could have been wrong, but I wasn't, and I guess that's just instinct, right? So-"

WHAP.

"Mr. Jones," the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had come up behind him and swatted him across the head with a notebook. "I'm sure you enjoy bragging, but please save your obnoxiously loud voice for outside of class."

* * *

><p><span>:.:.:.:.:.:Week Eight:.:.:.:.:.:<span>

* * *

><p>"Did you <em>see<em> his face?"

"I did."

"He was all, 'Oh no!' and I was all 'Oh YES!' and then it was like WHOOOOOSH!"

"I saw it, Alfred, I was there."

"Dude, I could've done anything, but it was a split second decision, you know? I still can't believe it worked!"

I couldn't help but grin into my butterbeer, looking up at Alfred as he reenacted his rather spectacular save from his third game with wild, sweeping hand-gestures for the tenth time, nearly knocking his own drink over in the process. I'll admit I was never one for quidditch, but even I was impressed by his catching of the snitch.

Which, of course, left me to hear all the details over and over and over again.

"I mean, seriously!" Alfred laughed loudly and sat back in the spindly wooden chair, raising his glass high and taking a long drink. "I knew I was good, but I didn't realize I was _that_ good!"

He set his mug down and I was amused to see the white, frothy foam coating his upper lip. "Silly boy," I chastised, reaching over the booth with a napkin and wiping his mouth for him. "You look ridiculous. Mind your manners."

"Yes _Mom_," Alfred muttered around the fabric of the cloth. "Sheesh."

I pulled my hand away and looked around _The Three Broomsticks._ It was crowded as usual, the extent of the people there ranging from students wrapped in wool cloaks to old warlocks with extravagant fur coats. It wasn't my favorite place to go for a warm drink on Hogsmeade weekends (I prefered _Caroline's_- an off the main-street tea shop that had a very splendid chamomile blend), but it was Alfred's favorite, and after his big win, I couldn't say no.

"What are your plans for Christmas?" Alfred asked suddenly. "You said you were staying here..."

"Well, that's really it," I shrugged. "I always stay here over the holidays. I'm usually the only one in my House, so it's quiet."

"Don't you visit your family?"

_"Get out of my house." _

_"Father... please, I'm sorry, I won't do it again."_

I looked down at my golden drink and felt myself shut down. Alfred seemed to realize this and quickly backtracked.

"Um, nevermind- I was just curious, you know? Most of my friends are going home and I was just wondering if maybe something came up with you and your family's plans or if you just like staying here or what..."

_"You're a danger to all of us... leave!" _

_"But... I don't know where to go! Father, I-" _

_"Get out, you...!"_

_The Three Broomsticks_ suddenly felt too noisy and crowded. The booth Alfred and I were sharing was too small and I immediately began to sweat as I realized just how squashed against the wall I was, how uncomfortable the seat had become, and how incredibly quickly the temperature in the building was rising. Why was I here? I hated crowds, I hated people. I didn't even like butter-beer. These people were laughing too loudly and moving too fast. My palms were slippery. My heart... it was racing. I didn't want to be here. I couldn't be here.

_"I should have kicked you out the moment Dad found you there, you know. You're lucky I bothered to raise you at all! As if you weren't different enough... first Mum, then all those others... then magic? And now this?"_

I had to get out.

I quickly stood, pushing my chair backwards with the back of my knees and hitting the person's chair behind me.

"Watch it!" The student turned and saw me, then paled and leaned away. "O-Oh, sorry..."

I couldn't care. I just couldn't.

"Arthur?" Alfred had also stood, looking concerned. "Hey, you alright?"

No. "Yes," I said, digging in my pocket for a Galleon and setting it on the table. "I... I need some air... you stay here and finish your drink..."

_"I'm sorry... Scott, I didn't ask..." _

_"I said GET OUT! LEAVE!" _

_SMACK! _

_A flood of memories..._

I hurried out, pushing past people in an attempt to get to the door. Why was it so hot? What the bloody hell was so great about this place anyway- why were there so many people? I crashed through the doors, gulping in the frozen air from outside and blindly forced myself to keep walking, past the torrents of students milling around the place, noticing only the cold and how white flakes had begun to fall from the gray sky.

My family. Why did he have to bring that up?

_"Mum! WAKE UP!" _

_Red. Scarlet. Crimson. _

_Drip. Drip. Drip. _

_"Please, Mum... Mummy, please..." _

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

I barely noticed as I passed the main roads and began walking through the now rapidly falling snow towards the Shrieking Shack.

_"Arthur, are you okay? Where's your mum..."_

_ Cold. Pale. Still. _

_"... What have you done...? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" _

_Her fingers are lying open, her palm facing the ceiling with dried red on her broken fingernails. _

_"Mum! Mum!" _

_"Get out... GET OUT!" _

_A beat. _

_SMASH! _

_"No! No! Father, no! Mum! MUM!"_

It's so cold.

_"Help me, Mum! Help me!" _

_Her eyes are open. They're pale green. Lifeless. _

_CRASH! _

_"You... you killed her!" _

_"No..." _

_"YOU KILLED YOUR OWN MOTHER!" _

_"NO!"_

There's a weight on my shoulder.

"No, no, no, I didn't!"

"Arthur!"

"I didn't do it, I swear!"

"Art-"

"I DIDN'T KILL HER!"

Crushing, forced warmth.

"I didn't kill her, I didn't kill her, I didn't..."

"Hey, it's okay..."

"No, no, no... no, I didn't kill her..."

I very slowly became aware of what was happening. Me, muttering under my breath into a very warm, very broad chest with tears running down my face. Shivering, sobbing, and falling apart...

And then Alfred, his arms wrapped around me, hugging me close to him as I cried.

He pulled away slightly as I looked up at him, his blue eyes worried. "... Arthur?"

"Don't say my name..." I whispered, fisting my hands on his chest.

"Oh, sorry, Iggy-"

"No!" I shouted, pushing him away. "D-Don't talk to me, don't say anything to me, don't... don't look at me like that! Get away!"

"Arthur, wh-?"

"GO AWAY!" I screamed, whipping out my wand and pointing it in his direction. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Alfred slowly put his hands up over his hand in a gesture of surrender. "... I'm not going anywhere. You can hex me, go for it, but I'm not leaving."

"You... you..." I shook my head rapidly. Why wasn't he running? Why was he still standing there? "No, no, get away... get away from me..."

"I will not," Alfred said determinedly. "I'm your friend, and friends don't leave each other when the other is hurting."

My friend.

Alfred was my... my friend.

My friend.

"Right," Alfred nodded, and I hadn't realized I had said it out loud. "So lower your wand, alright Iggy?"

I lowered my wand.

Alfred stepped forward cautiously and put his hands on my shoulders. Such large, warm hands... they covered my entire skinny shoulders. I felt so small. So weak. Vulnerable. "Hey. Sorry for scaring you like that."

I shook my head.

"You really worried me back there," the American brushed away a strand of blonde hair from my face and I looked away. "You got all tense and flushed and then the way you ran out... is there somethingWRONG with your family, Iggy? Are they hurting you?"

His tone got very dark and serious as he asked that last question, so much so that I almost smiled. "Sometimes." I whispered.

"What do they do?"

"It's a long story."

"It's a long time before we have to get back to the castle."

I looked back up at him, my gaze hardening, and shrugged his hands off. "Jones, all you have to know is-"

"Don't call me that."

I blinked. "What?"

"Don't call me by my last name, Arthur," Alfred said, crossing his arms across his chest firmly. "We're past that, aren't we?"

I felt my chest squeeze and half-heartedly pushed at him. It was like shoving a rock. "Fine... fine, Alfred. I don't have a perfect family like you. I don't have wizard parents and an outstanding brother."

The words bubbled to my lips and I couldn't stop them from rushing out. I continued shoving at him, my hits weak and the only purpose to distract me from having to really look at him.

"My mother was murdered, my father drank himself to his grave, and my three older brothers found it amusing to use my curse to get rid of their enemies. See? I can't stand people like you, I can't stand them! You have life so easy, so fucking perfect that you... you can't even see the people that get hurt in front of your faces! Captain of the Quidditch team, good grades, plenty of friends... why do you stay around me? Why do you put yourself in danger to say my name?"

I threw a last punch and my fist bounced off his chest like a wadded up bit of parchment. "Why, dammit? Why...?"

I really hated myself at that point.

"Look at me."

I didn't look up from the snow gathering around my feet.

Big, warm hands encircled my wrists and brought my hands up above my head, tugging me gently forward. I let them, unable to fight back, and closed my eyes. Something warm blew over my face and I heard Alfred's breathing next to my ear. The heat from his body was radiating into my own, and I shivered.

"Arthur, you're smart and intelligent and fun to be around- don't look at me like that, it's true- and yeah, you can be a real loser sometimes when you want to be, but I really like being your friend, and I like being around you," Alfred's voice was quiet. "I wish other people could see you like I do, because you're so much better then I am. You should be the one with all the things I was blessed with, not some shitty family and messed-up curse. I... I wish I was the one with this curse, I really do."

"Don't say that!" I said, wrenching my eyes open and gripping the front of his coat. "Alfred F. Jones, don't you EVER say that!"

He was right there.

Right there.

I could see every speck of navy and aqua in his sky blue eyes, the way they turned silverish in the whiteness of the surrounding snow. His skin wasn't smooth and perfect, but rather slightly bronzed with a few nicks here and there from Quidditch accidents. His lips were slightly dried out, but they were plump and rounded, only a few shades darker from the rest of his skin, and a little notch on his upper lip told me he must bite them when anxious. His hair was ashy blonde and a little wind blew it into his face and behind the lense of his glasses so it covered one eye for a moment.

I couldn't speak.

"I will say it, Arthur!" I don't think Alfred meant to grip my hair in his hands when he said these words, but he did, and our faces were inches apart. His teeth were almost completely perfect- a tiny notch in his canine was the only imperfection, and it was... charming. "I don't know why I care about you so much, but... but I want to protect you, I want to keep you safe and happy and to myself!"

His eyes widened as mine did at those last words.

"To... yourself?" I squeaked out.

"No, I... yes, but..." Alfred struggled for words, pulling back slightly. "God, Arthur, I just... I saw you in the stands during the game and I HADto win. For you. When I see you in the corridors and everyone just sort of ignores you I want to scream and make everyone pay attention to you because you deserve it, you really do! But at the same time, as much as I want you to have friends and other people, I like being the only one. I'm selfish, I know... I just..."

"Alfred..."

"And now that I know where you're from, Arthur, I just want to protect you more!" Alfred said desperately. "From those assholes that are your brothers, from the curse, from everything! I want... I want... I want to be your hero, Arthur! I know, it's really cheesy and whatever, but I mean it, I want that so badly, I really do!"

I don't know who started it, but all of a sudden I wanted him to shut up and stop talking. And he did, but because I was suddenly realizing that a very warm, very wet mouth was on top of mine. It... it was...

Amazing.

I put everything I had into that kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck and leaning into the connection between us, loving how his arms immediately went around my waist and tugged me closer, deepening it. I couldn't tell where each of us began and the other started, and I didn't care. My fingers were twisting into his soft hair, pulling his head nearer to my own, our lips sliding over one another's messily. His hands were running over my back and squeezing my hips, our bodies flush against each other.

Alfred murmured my name as he broke for air. I didn't mind- I was kissing along his jawline, soft peach fuzz greeting my lips- an indication that he hadn't shaved for a while- until he met my mouth again and once again we were kissing, once again we were melding against each other. I couldn't stop the small noise that left my lips and didn't really care, either.

After a while, we broke apart, lips wet and faces pink, foreheads pressed together, both of us breathing heavily.

"Alfred... I..." I breathed, opening my eyes and finding him looking back at me. "I... I don't..."

"Me neither," Alfred whispered, searching my eyes. "But... I liked it..."

"Yeah..." I swallowed. "Me too."

"Iggy, I... I wanted to ask you today, but then, well, THIS happened," I laughed lightly, and Alfred smiled. "I'm going back to America for the holidays... and I want you to come with me. That's why I asked about your family in the first place."

I shook my head slowly. "Alfred... I don't know..."

"My family wants you to come," Alfred pleaded, taking my hands. "I asked them if I could invite you, and they were ecstatic. Please...?"

I looked into his eyes again. "... Okay."

Alfred's grin could have melted the snow, and I closed my eyes, tilted my head back, and let the snowflakes fall.

**TBC**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: WOOHOO! THREE MONTHS LATER AND I CRANK OUT A PART TWO!**

**Actually, I drafted part two FOUR different times and NOTHING felt right. It still doesn't feel right, and I kinda hate it... :/**

**I ended up spliting two of the four drafts and then combined them.**

**The "week three" things are supposed to be how long they've been friends, because I'm lazy.**

**And... OH YEAH. I'm doing a part three. Forewarning: it will change the rating to M for two reasons: One! Although you can expect a happy(ish) ending, there's going to be a very sad, sad scene with blood, most likely. TWO! Heh heh heh... LEMON. Yeah, 'cause we all know that the prefects bathroom has a giant tub for a reason. 'Nough said.**

**REVIEW! PLEASE! :DDDDD**

**(P.S. Didja see my awsome cover that I made? I didn't draw it, but I DO love graphic design...)**


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